


Monster I've Become

by wonderlandiscrumbling



Category: Fright Night (2011), Twilight (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Drug Use, Self-Harm, Trans Male Character, Trans Peter, Vampire Turning, Vampires, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:28:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23479246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderlandiscrumbling/pseuds/wonderlandiscrumbling
Summary: Peter wanted to prove to Charley and Aro that he could go on one simple vampire hunt without either of them tagging along to supervise him, unfortunately for him it doesn't go the way he planned for it to.
Relationships: Aro (Twilight)/Peter Vincent
Comments: 60
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

When Peter went on his hunts, he typically brought Charley along with him or Aro, mostly Aro in recent months since the vampire often insisted on tagging along to keep him safe. Peter felt as if even at thirty-five nobody in his life felt him mature or bright enough to go out on his own, it was quite humiliating. He did on occasion express that to Aro who would gently explain to him that he never meant it to be condescending, he just wanted to ensure that the human he loved kept himself safe and alive. He couldn’t be too angry at that sentiment, even if it was still strange to have a vampire be in love with him, and even worse because he’d been falling in love with him over the course of time, they knew each other. He hadn’t wanted to, hadn’t wanted to know him at all other than to slam a stake into his heart and end his existence, but things hadn’t worked out that way. Hate turned to tolerance which soon turned to like and that for Peter easily turned into lust and holy Hell did he enjoy the lust aspect of this relationship, but yeah, the love part was nice. Scary, but nice. It bothered him how much faith and trust he put in Aro, something in him assuring him that the vampire despite his strengths would never cause him physical or emotional anguish. For most his life he hadn’t even trusted other humans, but a vampire he trusted with his life.

Part of him felt guilty going on this job alone, he hadn’t even called to let Aro know about it, not that he had to check in with him before he went to do anything, just that in case it went wrong it was good for somebody to know what might have happened. He tried to push that thought from his head as he entered the abandoned shelter that last he remembered was a hideout for junkies to get high, have sex, and pass out; unfortunately for the dead bodies strewn across the first floor of the building the heroin they so loved had left them too fucked to escape or fight back. He figured the vampire who did it was newly turned, on a feeding frenzy until they adjusted to their existence, he hoped they would be easy enough to kill. Peter tried not to linger too long near the bodies, the stench of rotting flesh permeating the air, the depressive thought that the cops wouldn’t find these bodies for weeks, and there were no loved ones to care entered his mind as he climbed the rickety stairs up to the second level.

The windows had all been busted out, cold air blowing through the openings causing dirt and needles to blow across the wooden floor. Peter clutched the stake in his right hand as he stalked through the second level, glancing into the rooms with their lack of door, hoping he’d find survivors that he could get out of here and take to the hospital, but knew he wouldn’t find anybody living. He relaxed his grip on the stake as he reached the last room finding nothing but a soiled mattress, a black candle sat next to it on the floor, nothing more than that. He sighed feeling defeated and frustrated as he entered the room, of course the one time he went on a hunt there would be nothing to kill so he could text Charley and Aro to brag about what a bad ass he was, how he didn’t need their supervision or their assistance. He used to think of them as sidekicks to his adventures, but recently he’d come to accept himself as the sidekick, needing watched after and mostly useless. He went to the mattress sitting down on it, promised himself he’d throw these jeans away the second he returned home from this dump. It wasn’t the first time he’d been in this place or a place like it, in his younger years he’d hit hard times, and found comfort in a needle in his arm. He idly stroked his fingers along the faded marks on the crook of his elbow, he didn’t miss those days, or the sad wreck of a person that he’d been back then. No, he was better now, leaving England and coming to Vegas had truthfully saved him from himself.

He was too wrapped up in his thoughts, in his memories to hear the faint creak of the floorboards behind him, the shift of a lingering shadow growing closer until it was mere inches behind him. A second more and the looming figure was on him throwing him face down onto the mattress, the vampire’s weight heavy and solid as Peter thrashed, it grabbed a fistful of his hair pulling hard exposing his neck. He kicked and clawed against the mattress, pain searing through his body as he felt long fangs piercing into the side of his neck ripping through flesh, blood spilling out of the holes as those fangs tore at his flesh more than necessary. There was a burn as something flowed into his open wound, a poison, a venom, an infection. The vampire pulled away from him taking his sudden stillness as a sign of a win, Peter turned quickly, stake clutched in his hand, he slammed it into the monster’s chest knocking him back onto the floor. He knelt over him pulling the stake out then plunging it in again and again, not even stopping when the vampire’s body stilled, the light fading from its eyes. 

Peter’s body felt heavy, it felt as if it were slowly being set on fire, fire spreading from the side of his neck through his chest clutching his heart like a vice that squeezed and squeezed until he choked collapsing back against the mattress writhing in pain. He clutched at his chest, blunt nails digging against his skin, eyes closed, and jaw clenched as he cried and growled with the pain that filled him. He knew that he wasn’t dying, if he could find the strength to he would have crawled to the body on the floor and retrieved his stake, end this before it got the chance to properly start, but he was paralyzed now. Only able to lay there staring up at a graffiti coated ceiling, consciousness leaving him, tears rolled down his cheeks as he thought about what was happening, what he was becoming.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter slept through most of the next day, only waking when the sun had disappeared from the sky and everything was bathed in the safety of darkness. He groaned in pain rolling onto his side, face pressed against the soiled mattress, he began coughing and choking at the rancid stench that filled his nostrils. His head throbbed with pain, his body sore as he slowly pulled himself up into a sitting position. He took in his surroundings, mind foggy preventing him from remembering how the Hell he’d gotten to whatever shit hole building he was currently in, his eyes fell upon the corpse laid out on the floor at the foot of the bed, the memories flooding his mind filling him with intense panic. He placed a hand against the side of his neck, he rubbed his fingers against the sore skin, felt dried blood flaking off onto his fingers, felt the bumps of two marks there. His eyes widened with panic as he crawled backwards until his back was pressed against the wall.

“No, no, no just a nightmare, all it was.” He began rambling to himself, he pulled his knees up against himself wrapping his arms around his legs as he stared at the vampire’s corpse.

His breathing was forced in two ways; labored breaths as panic flooded his very being and forced because he no longer had need for breathing. He ran his fingers back through his hair gripping it, pulling hard. He had an impossible time accepting this reality, he felt it had to be a nightmare, he’d simply gotten incredibly wasted and just passed out in this crack house, that was all, just a stupid typical Peter thing. He fished his phone out of his pocket, his hand trembling as he unlocked the screen and began scrolling through dozens of missed calls and texts. He had missed calls and texts from Charley asking him where he was, telling him to call him when he got the chance, telling him he was worried about him. There were messages from his manager calling him an asshole for missing the show and the meeting they were supposed to have this morning, and he’d even had texts from Amy asking him if everything was alright. He wanted to call them, to scream that he wasn’t okay, but he couldn’t make himself do that. He was scared of how they’d react if they found out, found out what he was. 

He tossed his phone onto the mattress, he crawled off it and stumbled his way into what passed for a bathroom in a shit hole like this. He flicked on the single light bulb that hung from the ceiling and approached the sink, a cracked mirror hanging above it. He gripped the edge of the sink tightly as he leaned close to the mirror looking at his reflection, cold dread filled his very being as he looked at the thing looking back at him. His brown hair hung down over his forehead, his skin glossy and pale.

“Oh God, no, no, no.” Two inky pools of black stared back at him. He stumbled back from the mirror, his back colliding with the wall. He couldn’t look away from the thing staring back at him, the thing with a face just like his, even with the same horrified expression, but the eyes were all wrong. They weren’t his eyes, not the warm brown eyes that he’d had for his entire life. He remembered Jerry, remembered those awful bastards with their gaping mouths filled with fangs and their blackened eyes. He let out a strangled sort of a scream as he lunged forward ripping the mirror from the wall throwing it out the door watching as it collided with the wall of the bedroom smashing into thousands of pieces that rained down upon the floor.

His chest heaved as he stalked back into the room, back to the vampire who lay dead on the ground.

“You bastard, you filthy fucking bastard.” He shouted as he delivered kick after kick to the corpse’s side. 

Peter was trembling, his stomach ached with hunger. He curled his fingers against the palms of his hands, blunt nails biting into his skin drawing blood, he could smell it. The sweet metallic tang of blood filling the air, from his hands, from the body in front of him and the bodies that littered the floor below this one. His tongue ran across his bottom lip and the hunger filled him with a horrifying intensity. 

“No, please….I can’t, I can’t do this.” He pleaded, cried, tears running down his cheeks. 

He dropped to his knees, gripped the vampire’s thick black hair in his hand jerking its head roughly to the side to expose the expanse of its neck. Cold blood was still blood, it would still stave off this aching, gnawing hunger that made him want to leave the building in search for fresh blood. Against all judgement, reason, and morality he latched onto the corpse’s throat, his long fangs pierced and ripped into toughened dead flesh. He moaned as blood poured into his mouth, his tongue eagerly lapping away at it as if it were the best liquor he’d had in his life. He drank until the gnawing pain in his gut subsided, he pulled away kneeling there, blood staining his face, dripping down onto his shirt. He felt disgusted with himself, angry, depressed. He eyed the stake that stuck out of the corpse’s chest, pulled it free with a sick squelch. He pressed the tip of it against his own chest, pressed until he felt it pierce through his shirt, the sharpened tip scratching against his chest, but as much as he longed to, he couldn’t plunge it in. He couldn’t destroy himself; he didn’t know if it was weakness or some survival instinct that he’d never had before. He dropped the stake to the floor, moved away from the corpse and returned to the mattress where he retrieved his phone.

He replied to Charley and Amy’s texts, told them that everything was okay, that he’d just gone out with a few friends and some groupies, gotten a bit too drunk, and then sent a less than polite apology to his manager. That should be enough to get them off his back while he thought about what to do, he knew he had very few options; he could stay in this crack house for the rest of eternity, maybe when the sun rose again he could walk out into it and see what happened. He could also leave, leave Vegas, leave Nevada, and just begin wandering until he found a place devoid of human life. He could live like a cryptid in the woods or in the mountains, feeding on animals he hunted, and live with the knowledge that his friends were all better off without him in their lives. Their messages alone made him feel like a nuisance and if they knew what had truly happened to him they would hate him, Charley would see it as his duty to destroy him, and in a way that’s what Peter wanted. He didn’t know how to tell him though, wasn’t sure he’d believe him if he called him and told him he was a vampire now, pleaded with him to come and stake him. Peter lay down again, curled up on his side with his phone clutched in his hand. According to the time on his phone the sun would be rising in a couple of hours, he knew he wouldn’t walk out into it, never again. He swallowed hard, tasted blood on his tongue, smelled it all over; he’d never go for rare morning walks or feel the sometime pleasant heat of the dessert sun on his skin. Silently he cried as he lay there, the hunger came over him again, he knew soon enough he’d be wandering downstairs to feed on the other corpses, he was a newborn after all, and they were always so damned hungry.


	3. Chapter 3

When Aro returned to Peter’s apartment he’d not been too surprised to find the human wasn’t at home. It was the normal really for him to spend his nights out with strangers, with what passed for friends, all of which he admitted he hated. So, he hadn’t been overly concerned that first night or the following morning when Peter still didn’t stumble through the door complaining about people, about traffic, or about how he couldn’t get good alcohol at any of the bars near here. It was by the end of that second night that he began worrying though, the apartment felt wrong; it felt less like a home awaiting its owner and more like a place that had been left abandoned for months now. He knew it hadn’t been months, Aro had only been gone for a short while attending business elsewhere, and he was certain that Peter couldn’t have been missing for all that long. Still something felt wrong, and that feeling increased as the day carried into the night. When night fell he left, making sure to grab the keys to Peter’s car on his way out, he knew the human hated him driving his vehicles, an issue Aro had never understood considering he was a much better driver than him. He didn’t care if he got cross with him over it though, he just needed to be certain that he was some place safe, that something terrible hadn’t happened to him while he’d been away. 

As he drove along the strip, he thought of what a ridiculous thing this was; he was the head of the Volturi, he was feared, and killed thousands. He shouldn’t be driving down the street trying to pin down the scent or the thoughts of a singular human, he shouldn’t care this deeply about whether Peter was safe or not. It should be of no concern of his; there were vampires who took on human lovers, it was strange, but quite common. Except typically the human ended up dead and drained of their blood when the vampire grew bored of them, he couldn’t fathom doing that to Peter, the thought made him quite honestly ill. Silly really, he couldn’t imagine how others would react if they saw him, if they saw the way he watched a single human man as if he meant the world to him. Perhaps Peter did mean the world to him, he worried half the time that Peter didn’t understand that, that he didn’t trust him, or that his intentions of simply loving him were true. He could understand his suspicions, his worries that Aro had ulterior motives, but there must be some level of trust and love there or else Peter wouldn’t be willing to sleep while the vampire sat in bed with him. Part of him feared that Peter had finally drunk himself to death or crossed the wrong person, gotten himself killed, and then that would just be the end of things. He hated that thought, the negative possibilities that ran through his mind as he exited the neon safety of the city and drove into worse parts left to decay because they didn’t live up to the fantasy standard. 

He was confused when he got an inkling of Peter being nearby in this area, he slowed as he reached a two-story building, its windows busted out, and obscene graffiti staining the exterior of it. Peter was in this place, he couldn’t quite hear him, hear his thoughts, or read him, but he felt him. He felt his distress, that alone had him putting the car into park and climbing out of it, soon he was inside the building and greeted by corpses littered across the floor; from the look of things it appeared vampires had gotten to the humans that had been hidden away in this place. The creaking of floorboards up above caught his attention, his immediate thought turning to Peter, he wondered if he’d gone hunting on his own or perhaps Charley was here with him, though he couldn’t sense the boy’s presence in this place. Aro made his way up the stairs, all his worries leaving him now that he knew with certainty that Peter was here, and he must be safe if it was him moving around. He came to a stop when he reached the landing of the second floor, shock coming over him when he saw him.

Peter was pacing the floor, barefoot, blood stained around his mouth, running down his neck and soaked into the dark fabric of his t-shirt, he raked his fingers back through his thoroughly messed hair, and his eyes were inky pools of black. His head snapped up when he heard Aro’s footsteps, mouth opening exposing his fangs. 

“Peter?”

He knew it was him, but it was impossible to believe really. Even he felt as if he were entering a bizarre dream seeing him in this state, he glanced down at the body of a vampire on the ground and gathered on his own what happened. Slowly Aro approached him, he could feel the fear coming off him in waves, felt the panic that was coursing through his body the closer he came to his partner. 

“What happened?” He asked, voice gentle and calm.

Peter was scared, reasonably so; from the looks of it he hadn’t left this building for days now. Aro knew he must be starving, and he knew that starvation was only contributing to the fear he was feeling. A disgustingly selfish part of him couldn’t help but be happy that Peter was a vampire, the safe knowledge that they could truly be together for eternity if the once human so wished for that, but he knew that this was not what Peter had wanted. He knew that Peter would have rather died than become like this, like him. 

“Help me,” he pleaded at last, his voice weak and trembling.

Aro watched as he picked a stake up from the ground, he held it out to him. Aro took a step back holding his hands up, “I will not do that.” There was no hesitation in his refusal, he felt sick at the thought of plunging that stake into his heart, destroying him. 

Peter growled with frustration; fangs bared as he gripped the stake tightly in one hand. In a second, he was on him, slamming Aro back against the wall, he grabbed the vampire’s wrist and forced his fingers to wrap around the stake as he guided the point of it against his chest pressing against it. Aro stared up at him with alarmed eyes, breath he didn’t need catching in his throat. Peter practically loomed over him, a deathly tight grip on the wrist of the hand that held the stake, even with the state of his eyes he could see the pain and desperation in them. Peter’s mind was a suffocating mess of screams and pleading to be killed, wanting to be destroyed.

“Peter, I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can, you promised me that you wouldn’t, that if this ever happened that you would kill me.”

“I never made such a promise, I only promised to protect you, to ensure this never happened to you.” He argued back, his eyes fell on the stake still gripped in his hand, still pressed firmly against Peter’s chest, and he knew with one quick movement on either of their parts it would pierce his skin and stab into his heart. Peter tightened his grip on his wrist further.

“Damn it, just do it, please I am fucking begging you just to kill me. Please, if you fucking love me then you’ll, please, just don’t let me live like this, I can’t live like this.” 

Aro’s free hand came to grab Peter’s throat, grip tight, the sudden movement caught him by surprise causing him to release his grip on his wrist, Aro took the opportunity to throw him roughly to the floor. Peter crawled up onto his hands and knees watching as the elder vampire broke the stake in half tossing it to the ground before advancing on him, kneeling before him. 

“Peter I will not destroy you, I can’t, because I love you. I wouldn’t be able to live eternity knowing that I murdered the man I love, please understand that.” He placed a hand against his shoulder, surprised that his touch wasn’t refused.

Instead Peter wrapped his arms around his waist, face buried against his chest as he cried. Aro sat down on the filthy ground, allowed his lover to curl up against him and cry, his fingers curling in his shirt. He could feel him trembling, feel his tears soaking through his shirt. He pet his fingers through Peter’s hair, kissed the top of his head, and felt truly lost for any words of comfort. He knew this was a waking nightmare for him, as much as Aro wanted him for eternity he didn’t want him to be in pain. He didn’t want him to be suffering, to hate himself this much; he knew all his fears, knew that he must have been feeding on the corpses in this run-down building, and that he must be starving. He knew what that meant and how much that terrified the hunter, perhaps it was selfish and cruel of him to not destroy him when asked to, typically Aro could kill anybody if need be, but not Peter. Never him.

“Peter, my love, we need to get you back home.” 

He pulled back to look at him, still so frightened. Aro stroked his fingers against his cheek, gentle and loving, he pressed a kiss against his forehead. “It’s still dark out and I don’t know what breed of vampire bit you, it’s best to get you someplace familiar and safe while we still have the time, okay?” He wasn’t really asking, just gently instructing.

Aro got to his feet pulling Peter up with him, he kept a hold on his hand, guided him down the stairs and out into the sticky heat of the Nevada night. Peter didn’t comment on it being one of his cars parked there, he wasn’t in the state to be angry about such a trivial thing. On the way back home he was silent, Aro gave him a shirt from the backseat to clean his face with the best that he could until they reached home where he could take a proper bath, Peter never spoke, just watched out the window as the buildings passed them by, the lights from casinos and clubs casting ghoulish shadows across his glossy pale face. When they arrived at Peter’s building it was easy to guide him inside, into the lift, and up to his floor. Peter seemed to be too out of it to really refuse being guided, functioning on autopilot at this point as if he’d entered a state of shock. Aro guided him back to the master bathroom, ran a bath for him, but didn’t undress him.

“A bath will help; at least help you feel clean. I’ll stay here with you if you want.” He offered; Peter blinked at him seeming to finally come back to himself as he looked around his bathroom.

He nodded slowly, ran a hand over his face. “Yeah, you can stay, join me, yeah?” He asked as he started to pull off his short tossing it into the small trash bin that sat by the door. 

Aro smiled softly, he was happy to hear him speaking again, and to know that he did want him here with him. Peter undressed and climbed into the tub, he sighed content as the warm water washed the grime and blood from his skin, he dipped his head down under the surface of the water coming up a minute later. By then Aro was climbing in with him, moving to settle between his legs, back pressed against his chest, Peter wrapped his arms around his waist, rested his chin against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, pressed a kiss against his shoulder.

“For what?”

“Trying to make you kill me, I shouldn’t have done that, or said what I said.” 

“It’s fine, I know that you’re scared, and I can understand that. I want to help you with this, guide you through this.”

Peter tightened his grip on him, nuzzled against him. “I won’t kill anybody.” 

“I’d never ask you to my love, we will work something out, I’ll make sure there is plenty for you to drink here. I know you must be feeling weak.”

He grunted his response, kissed his shoulder again then his neck. “I love you; I know it doesn’t come across that way often, but I do.”

Aro smiled, took hold of his hand bringing it up to his lips pressing a kiss against the back of it. “I love you too, you are so very special to me. Would you like to sleep?” 

Peter nodded, kissed his neck again. Aro moved away from him, getting out of the bath, assisting him out after. Peter felt better enough to mutter that he could take care of himself and that he didn’t need him to look after him, it was nice to see him coming back to himself. Even his thoughts were slowly coming back to their typical nonsense. They returned to the bedroom where they climbed into bed together, Aro had not seen the sense in sleep for so many years now, but even now it appeared that Peter found a comfort in it. He was sure it was the escape of it, when he slept, he didn’t have to face the reality of what he was now. He curled up against him, kept an arm wrapped around his waist, and Aro was more than happy to allow the newly turned vampire curl up against him. He rubbed a hand along his back, stroked his fingers through his still damp hair watching as Peter drifted off to sleep. 

He of course was happy they had forever now, but this wasn’t the way he’d wanted it to happen for him. He hadn’t wanted him to be turned by some random vampire in a crack house, left hungry and terrified for who knew how many days. It saddened him, angered him even knowing that he’d gone through that. He promised himself he’d never allow him to go through that loneliness and fear again.


	4. Chapter 4

Aro waited until he knew that Peter was deep in sleep before he slipped out of the apartment to gather what he knew his partner needed. He knew the chances of Peter ever agreeing to feast on a human or a living animal were very low, he seemed shaken enough by the fact he’d feasted on the flesh of rotting corpses, the thought alone left a horrid taste in Aro’s mouth. He stalked around the blood banks then ended up at the butcher close to Peter’s apartment; he found it disdainful for guilt ridden vampires to feast on old blood, blood that was chilled, and days old, but he knew this was the best he could convince Peter to do. He did of course worry that he’d have low impulse control, that like many newborns Aro had seen in his lifetime he would lunge at the first breathing mortal he came too close to. He’d do his best to prevent anything from going wrong, he still at the moment mostly had his worries about Peter’s mental wellbeing. Despite the fact he’d seemed to come back to himself earlier in the night he did worry that it was temporary. He knew that Peter wasn’t okay, he may never be okay again after this. For himself becoming a vampire was a wish granted, he never had to grow old, could never fall ill, or be killed as easily as a mortal. Peter didn’t care about any of that, he clung onto his mortality, the novelty of it, even the downsides that came along with it. Aro couldn’t quite understand why he treasured being human so much, but he had to admit he liked Peter’s humanity, he would miss the heat of his skin, the beating of his heart, and the feeling of his warm breath against his cool skin. It felt worth it though, to have him, truly for the remainder of time.

It was close to time for the sun to rise by the time he arrived back at the apartment. He stocked the fridge with the blood he’d procured both stolen and purchased with money, when he returned to the bedroom Peter was still laid across the bed, mouth open, drool on his pillow, and hair flopped over his forehead. Aro sat down on the edge of the bed, pet his fingers through his hair, he smiled kindly down at his lover, fingers brushing against the rough texture of stubble on his cheek. He did love him, as much as a creature such as himself could love anything and more than that. If the vampire who did this to him weren’t already dead, he would rip them to shreds with his own hands. Peter stirred in his sleep, groaning as his eyes slowly opened revealing that endless darkness that Aro was growing rather fond of. Even if Peter didn’t see it, Aro saw beauty in his new appearance, he hoped within this century he could convince him of how beautiful he was. 

“Time is it?” He asked, mumbled mostly as he pulled his pillow down closer, burying his face against it.

Aro rubbed his hand along his back, “nearly time for the sun to rise.”

He grunted in response, seemed to relax under the vampire’s touch. Aro leaned down pressing a kiss against the back of his head then between his shoulder blades. His fingers brushed against the scars on his neck and some twinge of jealousy settled in his chest knowing some other creature’s fangs had pierced his lover’s flesh. Peter turned his head to the side, one eye open as he watched him.

“Tell me that the last few days were an awful nightmare and that I’m still alive.” 

“Peter, I won’t lie to you.”

“Please,” he whispered.

“Fine, you went on your usual bender of drugs and liquor, afterwards you passed out in your living room. I came home, carried you back here to your bed, and have watched you ever since to ensure you’re okay.”

Peter smiled, closed his eye as he nuzzled his pillow. “Weirdo.” His smile faded as he sighed, “lay down with me.” He requested.

Aro slipped out of his shoes and removed his dress shirt before laying down with him, laying on his side to fully face his partner. Peter seemed the slightest bit more content to have him near, shrouded in the safe darkness of his bedroom, shut away from the truth and the world. Peter rolled onto his side, eyes opening as he looked at his partner. 

“Where did you go?” He asked at last, taking hold of Aro’s hand lacing their fingers together.

“I got some supplies for you, things I feel that you will need.”

Peter nodded, there was still a deep sadness in his features, it radiated off him in waves. Aro pressed a kiss against his forehead, Peter brushed his lips against his, and he was happy to kiss him properly. He found himself nearly melting into it when the hunter placed a hand against his cheek, his kiss gentle and slow. “I appreciate you, you doing this for me, looking after me. I won’t promise I’ll make this easy on you.” He softly warned.

Aro smiled, “I would be disappointed if you did make this easy on me. I promise that I will do everything I can for you, I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

“Thank you,” he kissed him again, nipped his bottom lip. “Will I be mad when I find out where you got the blood from?”

“I don’t believe so, I stole enough for two weeks from a blood bank, and purchased the rest from a butcher.”

Peter hummed, kissed him again before finally rolling away from him and climbing out of his bed. Aro stayed where he was watching as his partner went to his dresser pulling out a pair of boxer briefs and jeans. He did get up to follow him out of the bedroom and into the living room, sun spilling in from the large windows. Peter paused glancing towards the windows, Aro watched him as he edged closer to a shard of light that cast itself across the floor. Despite his self-loathing he appeared hesitant as he reached his hand out, his fingers just barely brushed in the warmth of the sunlight. Aro saw the smoke that rose from his fingers, the start of fire that caused Peter to pull away cradling his hand against himself, fangs bared as he glared at the light. 

“Fucking Hell that hurts.” He grabbed up the small remote clicking for the blinds to draw closed drenching them once more in darkness. He hit another button turning the lights on, lights they certainly didn’t need in order to see around, but he knew it was a comforting habit for him.

Peter stalked into the kitchen. “It looks like a fucking serial killer lives here.” He complained as he opened the fridge revealing the containers of blood sitting along with the bottles of beer and the leftover meals from the week before.

Aro leaned back against the kitchen counter watching him, Peter slammed the door shut turning to face him, he looked down at his injured hand, the charred skin already repairing itself.

“You’ll get used to it, trust me.”

“I don’t want to have to get used to it, I want it to just not be a thing. I should be human; I can’t be like this.” 

“I know, if I could change what happened to you then I would.” It was a cold comfort, empty words that solved nothing about the current circumstance.

Peter ran his fingers back through his hair, he hit his head back against the fridge groaning. “I don’t know if I want to laugh or break something.” 

Aro stepped closer to him, he placed a hand against his side, fingers brushing along bare skin. Peter lowered his head staring at him, he sighed reaching up to push his long hair back over his shoulder, his fingers coming to rest against his cheek. 

“You’ll really stay with me through all this?” He asked watching as the elder leaned into his touch, red eyes flicking to meet his, a small smile forming on his lips.

“Of course, it would be cruel of me to leave you alone during this time. I love you dearly.”

Peter crowded him back against the counter again, he kissed him deeply, tongue pressing into his mouth as his fingers tangled themselves in his hair. “I love you too, I fucking swear I’m gonna work on showing that better.” He whispered against his lips. 

He would never change anything about him, but it was nice to feel more accepted by him. He felt it so completely in the way that Peter kissed him and held him close against himself that he loved him, that his shame in that act was fading now that they were on equal terms.


	5. Chapter 5

Peter clung desperately to what of his humanity he could salvage; his body didn’t require or even crave sleep, but each day, several times a day he would burrow under the covers and fall into deep death like slumbers. Aro typically would sit by him reading a book or if Peter whined enough, he would lay down with him, hold him while he rested. Unfortunately for Peter sleep wasn’t simple, it never had been, but since being turned it became worse than before. Once his nightmares had been about being turned, now that that one had come true his mind was haunted by a fear of losing control, of his hunger and monster nature forcing him to hurt those he cared about. He’d wake up panicking, Aro holding him and comforting him through the panic that clutched him after each nightmare. Aro often tried to convince him to give up on sleep, telling him that it was a waste of valuable time and quite frankly just self-torment when it did nothing but cause him emotional distress. He was right about that second part, but if he didn’t sleep then he had a literal 24 hours on his time and he didn’t like having that much time conscious, thinking. It was too much. Another thing he found himself doing was continuing on with his abuse of alcohol, he could still drink, he couldn’t consume food any longer which pissed him off, but he could drink booze, thank God.

Aro sat on the countertop watching him as he made yet another mixed drink consisting of two parts pigs’ blood and three parts whiskey, two spheres of ice thrown in as well, he wrinkled his nose in disgust. 

“How can you drink it like that?” He asked, his disgust no longer hidden as it had been two weeks ago.

“Because this way I can at least sort of live with myself, I don’t want to drink that shit straight, not again.” He said staring down at his drink. He thought back to his first week as a vampire, stuck inside that rundown crack house feeding on the rotting corpses.

He didn’t want to do that, he didn’t want just blood, he feared that if he just drank blood even if it was coming from a pouch or a to-go cup that it would make him crave it straight from the source. He had on his own time rolled around the idea of hunting animals, but even that sickened him, the thought of watching the life drain from anything’s eyes. He downed his drink, it was thick, and metallic in flavor, but the familiar burn of whiskey made him happy enough.

“I suppose it does no harm.” His partner said sighing, still annoyed as he watched Peter pour himself another drink, this time just the whiskey.

Peter knew even now that Aro didn’t want him drinking alcohol, especially now that he really didn’t have to be careful. When he’d been a human, he had to worry about alcohol poisoning, choking to death on his own sick, or something worse than either of those. Now though he couldn’t die, couldn’t choke, couldn’t turn his organs to rot. He knew Aro had hoped that becoming a vampire would make him stop drinking, but if anything, it worsened his habit, that and the fact he was still struggling with intense bouts of depression over being a vampire. 

Aro placed a hand on his wrist stilling him before he could go for a third drink, Peter reluctantly sat the bottle down and placed the glass into the sink. Aro got down from the counter, he took the other man’s hands in his stroking his thumbs across his knuckles. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

Peter groaned pulling his hands from his, he itched to pour himself another drink, he was still far too sober for one of those ‘I’m worried about you’ conversations that people in his life always seemed to want to have with him. He remembered the beginning before he became so involved with Aro, how he felt the vampire didn’t care about what he did to himself, he almost missed that, it was easier when somebody didn’t care what happened to him. 

“I know, look I’m…I don’t want to think about it, yeah? I’ve been dodging calls and texts from my manager for weeks now because I don’t even know what the fuck I’m going to do about my shows. Fucking Christ, I can’t even cover this shit up with contacts.” He said gesturing towards his black eyes.

He’d removed every mirror from his flat days ago, he couldn’t handle seeing his reflection anymore, seeing those wretched eyes staring back at him. He liked to pretend that his eyes were still normal, human.

Aro reached out to him again, he took hold of his wrist pulling Peter close to him. “I’ve told you my thoughts on this already.” His voice was gentle, he reached up stroking his fingers against Peter’s cheek.

“I’m not giving up my life, not faking my death, or whatever shit it is you lot do.” 

Deep down he knew it would come to that, he couldn’t pretend he was human, alive. His eyes weren’t normal, he could only go on for so long telling people they were contacts, and he knew that lie wouldn’t work for Charley or for his manager. Mentally he went through every person that would have to be notified that he died; his cousins, his aunt and uncle, though he was quite sure his uncle would be fine with it. He knew his uncle had wished he’d died years ago after his failed suicide attempt.

“We don’t have to do that, not right away, but it will come to that I’m afraid. You can’t hide what you are forever my love.” 

Peter wanted to get angry at him, wanted to tell him to get out of his apartment, but he was literally the only person he could talk to anymore. He was terrified of the day when Aro would have to leave him to return to Italy, not having him here with him for weeks or even months at a time filled him with absolute dread. He wasn’t sure what would happen to him, if he’d survive it. He felt pitiful being this way, he was beginning to understand how so many vampires just lost it and dived straight into the rabbit hole of being vicious creatures.

“Can we talk about this later, please?” He asked, his tone pleading.

Aro regarded him for a moment before sighing, he allowed Peter to drag him away from the bar and towards the couch where they sat together. Peter laid against his side, head resting against his shoulder as he turned the TV on, flipping through channels until he’d gone through all 158 twice, finally settling on a reality show about housewives. He didn’t care much about the show, he just needed some secondhand normalcy, see the sun shining even if it was in a TV show. He did envy that about Aro, that he could still walk in the sunlight, though he rarely chose to except the times it was deemed necessary. It wasn’t like Peter had gone out much during the day, but he missed the ability to go for a walk or to do a quick run to Starbucks early morning if he so wished. Now he couldn’t, couldn’t even drink overpriced coffee filled with syrup and sugar. 

“How long was it until you stopped missing things?” Peter asked after some time once a commercial came on.

“It was some time, I started to forget really, almost like my human life had belonged to a different person than myself.” 

“What were you like, before?”

“Not entirely different I suppose, quieter, less sure of myself; I never would have imagined myself becoming who I am now.” Aro pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “You won’t turn into a monster if that’s what you’re worrying about.” He assured him.

Peter turned to face him, “I don’t think you’re a monster, I know I’ve said it a lot, and I’m sorry. I’m just scared of losing myself is all, I don’t know where I’m even supposed to go from here.” 

“We’ll figure that out together, I promise. I will be here for you as long as you need me to be.” 

He knew he could trust him, which was a funny thing considering all the months he spent terrified of him. He never would have imagined himself trusting him, fearing a day where they may not be together. He leaned in kissing the older man gently, fingers brushing back through soft long hair, Aro placed a hand against his hip, fingers brushing up under his shirt touching along skin that was now just as cool as his own. Peter settled himself on his lap, deepening the kiss as his fangs nipped against his bottom lip. He didn’t think much about it when they were like this, when they were kissing, when Aro was touching him; he felt very nearly normal during these times. He supposed it was from years of using sex to keep from thinking and worrying. 

Peter pulled back long enough to remove his shirt, he cupped his face in his hands kissing him passionately, he moaned into the kiss when he felt familiar hands roaming up along his sides, manicured nails scratching down his back making him shiver as he pressed close against his boyfriend. His own hands slid down to his shirt, fumbling with the buttons of his dress shirt, he groaned frustrated as he attempted to undo each button, wanting to just rip the shirt off. Aro chuckled, he took hold of his wrist gently pushing them away, Peter kissed along his jaw and down the side of his neck while the elder worked on removing his own shirt to save it from his boyfriend’s nonexistence patience. Once it was removed Peter kissed along his shoulder, down along his collar bone, he whimpered when he felt Aro grip his hair tugging him up until they were kissing again, Aro’s tongue pressing into his mouth. He moaned as he felt hands grip his ass, he ground down against him feeling his boyfriend’s erection pressing against him. A moment later he was being laid down on the couch, the vampire knelt between his legs, lips trailing kisses down his chest, a cool wet tongue lavishing against his skin, the occasional nip of fangs against his skin drawing whimpers and moans from Peter as he writhed beneath him. 

Aro worked to unfasten his jeans, hand slipping down under the waistband of his boxers, Peter moaned when he felt fingers stroke along his clit, he pushed down against his hand grinding against him, needing more. Aro nipped against his skin, fingers slipping down further until he was pushing two inside him. Peter buried his fingers in his hair tugging.

“Please, need you.” He begged, his voice rough.

Even with the darkness of his eyes Aro could see the wanting in their black depths. He pressed another kiss to his stomach before pulling back to easier remove his boyfriend’s jeans and boxers, he trailed kisses down along his thigh, biting and sucking against pale skin as he moved down closer to where Peter desperately wanted him to be. Peter leaned his head back against the arm of the couch, eyes closing as he moaned with pleasure the moment that he felt a cool wet tongue lap against his clit, he rolled his hips pressing against his mouth, Aro gripped his hips firmly holding him down against the couch. Peter scratched against his scalp, whimpering and begging as he felt him teasing him. Aro took his clit into his mouth sucking against him, pulling loud lovely moans from his partner, felt him pulling at his hair, begging for more as he hooked his legs over his shoulders. Aro reached down unfastening his pants pulling his cock free, he moved back up Peter’s body, slowly he pushed inside him. Peter voiced his pleasure with deep moans, rocking his hips pushing against him, drawing him deeper in. He pulled back thrusting in hard and deep, he kissed along the younger man’s jaw, down along his neck biting and sucking against his skin, making new marks over the scarred ones from the other vampire who dare lay claim to his partner. Peter hissed and moaned, thrust back against him, clawed at his back as he begged for him. Aro worked to meet each of his commands, kissing along his skin, biting and sucking, leaving marks, trails of blood where he bit too hard, he gripped his hips tightly as he thrust into him hard. 

He licked the trickles of blood that ran down his neck that pooled in the hollow of his collar bone, he slid a hand down between them rubbing his partner’s clit drawing him closer to his release. He loved the sounds he made for him, the way he moaned and called out his name, the way he clung to him. He never imagined loving any creature as much as he loved Peter, he knew he could do this forever, being with him, and he had that chance. He trailed soft kisses along his neck, nuzzled against him as he felt his walls tightening around his cock, heard his loud shouts and moans of pleasure as his orgasm came over him. He reached his own release soon after, filling him with his release, after a moment he pulled out of him, moved to lay against him, head resting against the younger man’s chest. Peter wrapped an arm around him, fingers gently stroking along his back.

“I love you,” 

“I love you too,”

“Would you have stayed, if I was still human?” 

“Of course, I would have, I love you too much to ever abandon you.” 

Peter smiled at that; it came as some relief to know that he still would have had him by his side. Deep down he was glad they never had to discuss the downsides of mortality, truthfully, he never had wanted Aro to have to witness him age and die, now it was something they’d never have to really worry about. He felt almost content with his current life laying there on his couch post orgasm with Aro curled up on top of him.


	6. Chapter 6

Peter felt nervous to be out in the public again, walking down the sidewalk, the same sidewalk he’d walked down a million times before; everything was the same. The neon signs glared brightly, cars sped down the streets, coming to screeching halts when the light turned red, people honked their horns and leaned out their windows shouting obscenities at one another. People pushed past him, elbowed him, called him names because they felt he was in their way. He kept his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, the sunglasses he wore hid his eyes from anybody who glanced in his direction, but nobody really seemed to care about him. Being outside wasn’t going the way he’d feared it would go; he didn’t hear the beating of their hearts or yearn to drink their blood; he felt the way he always felt, empty, and mildly annoyed. He would have brought Aro along with him, but he just needed a break away from him, time on his own to think over what his future would hold. He couldn’t stay in Vegas forever, they couldn’t stay in Vegas that is, Aro always had Italy, he had his coven and his wife. 

Peter outside of Aro had absolutely nothing, he didn’t even have Charley to rely on. He couldn’t imagine telling Charley about this, the kid would freak out, probably even stake him. Not that Peter hated the thought of that, he’d considered it, still did from time to time. Then he would think about how devastated Aro would be, something he never would have thought about before, but he knew the vampire loved him. Damn him for it.

He turned into a nearby bar, the building small and crowded, he shoved through groups of drunk college kids until he reached the bar where he started with a beer then worked his way up to whiskey. It didn’t taste the same as it used to, there was no lovely bitterness or sweet burn as it washed down his throat, it just tasted off, as if it was something he wasn’t meant to consume. Not like it didn’t anything for him, if he drank two bottles of Jack Daniels then he could get tipsy, if he drank twenty then he could get somewhat drunk, but by that point he stopped because it was just too much work and he could tell that it bothered Aro. Despite the fact that being alcoholic wouldn’t kill him, wouldn’t make him ill, or wreck his liver. He supposed it was the idea of it, what it meant; that he couldn’t cope with this without being drunk or high. He was trying, he was doing his best to handle this. Some days he was okay, he could wake up, and tell himself it wasn’t all that bad; he’d never have to grow old, never have to worry about falling ill, or dying. He only occasionally craved blood, Aro kept enough animal blood stocked in the fridge to last him with no real issues, Peter often tried to see how long he could go without drinking blood, but the stomach pains grew too great and he found himself draining container after container like something deranged dog. 

He sighed as he looked at the empty shot glass he held in his hand. It didn’t do anything for him, none of this did. He paid his tab then wandered back out into the night. He missed the daytime, never thought he’d think that, feel that way. He used to avoid it, hated the sun after a night of drinking, always hated the hangovers and having to kick out whoever he slept with the night before. Mornings were for business calls that bored him to death and for puking his guts up then showering, but now mornings were for hiding away in his apartment. He often just slept while Aro sat next to him reading a book, sometimes he’d lay with him, hold him like he was keeping watch over him. It used to freak Peter out when he did that, but anymore it didn’t bother him the way it did when he was still human. Back when he worried that Aro wanted to turn him or kill him, he felt guilty for thinking that way now. Shit he wished Aro had been the one to do it, at least then he could still go out during the day, he wouldn’t have spent days cooped up in a crack house feeding on decaying bodies. He still thought about that night often, prayed to God it was just a fucking nightmare, but then he’d run his tongue along his sharpened canines and remind himself it was his new reality. 

It was weird not being a human, especially now. Walking through a crowded street, nobody having the slightest clue that the guy they just called a prick was a vampire, that he could grab them and drag them into a darkened corner and drain the blood from their stupid body if he so wished. He didn’t wish to do that though, but he could. That was the thing, he thought often of the horrid evil things he could do, but he had no urge inside himself to act on it. It made him anxious thinking about what he was capable of, he didn’t like knowing what he could do. He didn’t understand how Aro and other vampires could so easily take lives, even the idea of hunting vampires was beginning to become a bit off to him now. It nearly seemed hypocritical now, he knew that Aro and the Volturi killed other vampires, but that was more so like a government executing those who committed crimes. 

That had been an offer on the table, Peter going off to Italy to live with Aro. On one hand that was a beautiful and romantic idea, on the other hand Aro had a family of his own and Peter wasn’t sure he could handle that. He typically did his best to ignore the fact that Aro was with somebody else, long before Peter came into the picture, he had his own loved ones, loved ones who tormented and ate people, but still they were his family. Peter didn’t exactly feel comfortable intruding on that despite the fact Aro often assured him that it would be no issue. No, as weird as it may sound, Vegas was his home, or it was. He supposed it couldn’t be anymore, people knew who he was and if he stopped doing his shows then people would ask questions. Everybody knew of him, knew where he lived, and the places he tended to go to. He’d have to disappear, let everybody think whatever the Hell it was they wanted to think; he figured most people who knew him would just assume he finally crossed the wrong person and got killed, others would assume he died of a drug overdose somewhere. It was depressing to think about how few would give a shit about him. He knew Charley would care, well he liked to think Charley would care, and he knew his aunt would care. 

He didn’t know how others did it, just picking up and living a new life. 

After a couple of hours, he turned around and headed back home, he was a bit disappointed to find his apartment empty. He flicked on all the lights and removed his sunglasses tossing them onto the kitchen counter as he headed towards the fridge grabbing out a plastic container of pigs blood, he sat it out along with a bottle of whiskey, and a glass. Blood mixed with alcohol didn’t taste great, it was bitter and metallic, thick like a milkshake. He knew it should make him want to vomit, but it didn’t. He mixed the drink and downed it, drank it down as if it were water. That was the thing about the blood, despite its flavor and texture it felt like water to him, like he was dehydrated and if he didn’t drink this, he’d feel ill. He used to think of it more like heroin for vampires, something that they craved so badly they were willing to kill about it. He was pretty sure a lot of them were just bastards who enjoyed killing, probably would have killed people if they were human and knew they could get away with it, becoming vampires just gave them the opportunity and the physical strength to get away with their heinous crimes. Peter felt more assured now that he wouldn’t turn out that way.

He was still himself, even if that wasn’t entirely desirable. He supposed that was one thing that disappointed him about this, that he was still himself, never a great thing to be. He wasn’t exactly a good person, not evil by any means, but he was a bastard. He worried given a hundred years or so Aro would grow tired of his bull shit, realize that Peter couldn’t mature or change into a better person, that he was doomed to be one of those vampires who did nothing but mope about. If Aro ever grew tired of him and left him then he knew he was fucked, he knew he’d find a place to live isolated, and just never come out. It was pathetic thinking that way, feeling that way. He poured himself another drink and went to the couch where he began flipping through the channels, landing on some trashy vampire move made in the 1970s that seemed more so like porn the longer it went on. He knew the introduction of large breasted female vampires was how movie studios tried to be rid of the homoerotic undertones of vampire lore, admittedly the women were sexy, but the plot was trash. Still he watched it, watched vampires tearing into humans while they thrashed and screamed. 

He startled when he heard the front door click open then close again, relaxed when he reminded himself that he didn’t technically live alone. Aro didn’t really live with him, but he lived with him when he wasn’t off doing coven related business. Peter returned to watching the movie and drinking his cocktail, Aro settled next to him on the couch, a look of disdain on his pale elegant features as he watched the film play out then looked to Peter.

“How do you watch these things?” He asked as he curled up against his side.

Peter wrapped an arm around his waist holding him close. “I dunno, stupid though, isn’t it?”

“Offensive honestly,”

He smirked, kissed the top of his head. “I didn’t kill anybody when I went out tonight.”

“I knew that you wouldn’t, do you feel better now?”

“A little bit, still depressed though.”

“That’s understandable, I know it’s hard for you to believe this, but you aren’t a monster.”

It was hard for him to believe that, hard hearing it. He’d like to hear a person say it to him, he felt it was easy for Aro to tell him such things; he loved him, he wasn’t human. He’d been a vampire for hundreds of years, his humanity was nonexistent at this point in his existence, of course to him Peter was still practically human, naïve, and soft. He knew though if he asked any humans he knew, ones who he called family and friends if they thought him to be a monster the way he was at this moment that they’d all say yes, they’d try to kill him, or yell that they never wanted to see him again.

He didn’t like thinking about that.

“Is it this hard for everybody?”

“It can be, there have been many who were turned against their will, and it takes time for them to adjust to what they are now. I’ve known vampires who to this day are not pleased about what they are, wish they had died instead. You aren’t alone in the way you are feeling, but it does get easier when you have support.”

Peter nodded, he finished off his drink setting the glass on the side table. They watched the rest of the movie in silence, Peter more focused on how less empty he felt now that Aro was back with him, in his arms and keeping him from getting drowned in his thoughts.


	7. Chapter 7

It had been five months since Peter had been attacked, been changed into the thing he dreaded most in the world. He’d had a difficult time coming to grasp with the changes in his life, had grasped desperately to what little strands of humanity he could get his hands on only to watch them slip through his fingers. He gave up his shows in Vegas, he couldn’t find a way around it, couldn’t find it within himself to go onstage pretending he was still a mortal. Hunting vampires had become difficult as well, he still did it though, from time to time; the vampires in Vegas had been quick to find out that the great Peter Vincent was now a vampire, a traitorous one at that. He knew he wasn’t the only vampire out there who refused to feed on people, couldn’t bring himself to take a human life, but it was still a rarity. He’d tried to stay in Vegas, he really had, but it had become difficult; the lights and sounds, the people surrounding him began to feel like the ocean pulling him under and drowning him. Sometimes he did want to, wanted to hurt people just to make them shut up, to make them leave him be. He’d decided three months into being a vampire that he couldn’t stay there any longer, packed a few of his things and moved back to England. Holed up in a flat in London, close to family he hoped to avoid.

His new home was significantly smaller than his penthouse in Vegas had been one small bedroom, a bathroom, living room that connected to a tiny kitchen. He felt claustrophobic in the place most days, but it wasn’t a place to live, not really. Just a place to sleep throughout the day, sometimes through the nights as well. Aro had offered for the hundredth time that he could go with him to Italy, but per usual Peter had turned him down. He didn’t want to associate with the Volturi, he didn’t want them seeing his face, or knowing about his existence beyond what little Aro had probably told them already. He doubted they would approve of him murdering vampires, sure he killed vampires who put them all at risk of being found out about by humans, but he doubted they’d approve of him all the same. Truthfully some days he considered taking his own life, thought of even tracking down a hunter and attacking them with the hopes of being staked or decapitated. It just didn’t feel worth it some days, to keep on like this. It didn’t help how often Aro was away, his life had always been in Italy, travelling mostly due to his work.

Peter had lived his human life mostly without the vampire, he supposed he could handle time as a vampire away from him as well. Still it was difficult, it gave him too much time to think. Currently he sat alone in his living room, the TV playing in the background filling the silence. He stared out the window, the sun pouring through casting a pool of light on the floor. Peter slid off the sofa and approached the sliver of light, he stuck his arm through it, felt the initial pleasant warmth of it against his cold skin, but soon that turned to stinging which gave way to intense burning. He watched with passive black eyes as his skin began to bubble, singing, curling and ripping revealing muscle and sinew beneath it. He clenched his jaw, fangs bared as he jerked his arm away from the light, retreated to the sofa where he sat cradling his injured arm against his chest. He glared at the sunlight as if it had done this to him on purpose, as if he hadn’t been the idiot to stick his arm into its path. He looked back down at his arm, the skin itched and burned as it slowly began to repair itself, he knew if he fed that it would heal faster, but he didn’t feel like doing that. He was transfixed on the process, his hand trembled from the pain he felt in his arm, pain that now felt nearly numbing. He poked and prodded at his mangled flesh, flexed his fingers feeling the tightness of the skin pull as it did its best to repair.

He didn’t look up when he heard the door open then close. A moment later Aro was sitting by his side, his hand gentle yet firm as it took hold of his wrist pulling his arm closer to himself to look at the damage Peter had caused himself. Peter didn’t look up, just continued to watch mangled flesh mending, covering what lay beneath.

“What have I told you about this?” Aro asked, his tone was scolding, but held no real anger to it.

Peter pulled away from his grasp, he didn’t know what to say, it wasn’t like this was the first time this had happened, and truly it was the least amount of damage he’d caused himself in the months since being turned. Aro got up from the sofa and went to the kitchen retrieving a container of pigs’ blood from the fridge then returning to Peter handing the container to him. Wordlessly he drank from it, he felt a yearning as he drank the thick liquid, the tangy metallic spilling over his tongue and sliding down his throat, he felt it roll down the corners of his lips dripping onto his chest. His skin itched and throbbed as it mended at a faster pace, he felt Aro petting his hair, his cold fingers rubbing the back of his neck. Peter tossed the empty container onto the coffee table, his arm was very nearly healed now, just red taut flesh that would be back to its usual paleness by evening. Aro pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, tongue darting out to lick the blood off his skin.

“Thought you were in Italy.” Peter commented turning to better face him.

“America actually, we had business there with a feeding frenzy.” 

“How long are you going to be here then?”

“As long as I can manage, I hope to be here for a while. I know I say that often.” He responded smiling sadly, he stroked his fingers against Peter’s cheek. “I do love you so very much.”

Peter sighed, he knew that he did, he’d known that for so many years now. Somehow the fact Aro loved him only ever made things more difficult, made distance and intimacy and trust so very complicated. Of course, there was a slight freedom in it now, now that Peter didn’t have the moral dilemma of being involved with a vampire, but there was the distance. The fact that Aro had always had a life of his own, a coven to run, and vampires of his own strain to oversee and control. As a human Peter had had plenty to keep himself busy, had his shows, had his friends, and his life. Now he just had the occasional vigilante vampire hunting, couldn’t even take proper jobs from people, or associate with other hunters. He felt stuck between mortal and vampire, not properly belonging to either, he still longed to be human, but that could never be.

“I love you too, I’m not mad y’know. I’m just still sorting out my own bull shit is all.” 

“Of course,” he understood, he’d always been terribly understanding about this. Aro wrapped an arm around his waist, Peter moved to settle himself on the other man’s lap, resting his head against his shoulder, eyes closing. “My offer still stands, I promise you that nobody will bother you, you wouldn’t even have to reside in the castle with us, I can purchase us our own home.” 

Peter smiled, he kissed against the side of his neck as he thought over the offer. It was tempting, but he knew England better; he’d been born here, partially raised here. Sure, he was avoiding his relatives, they all presumed him to be missing somewhere in the states, he wasn’t quite sure most of them cared about what happened to him, probably thought life was better off without him. Italy would be unfamiliar territory for him, a place that Aro knew well, and he did not.

“I’ll think about it, just weird is all.” 

Aro rubbed a hand along his side, fingers slipping up under his shirt to touch along his skin. Peter sighed when he felt those fingers stroke along his arm, gingerly touching along scarred skin. He knew Aro hoped the closeness would help, would ease his mind, and make him happier. Peter’s fear told him that it wouldn’t, that he’d still be depressed, bitter about his own existence. 

“Just think about it, the offer will always be there my love.”

Peter snuggled closer to him, hid his face against the side of his neck as he thought about how maybe it would be nice to be nearer to him on a more permanent basis.


End file.
